Music
by starspangledpumpkin
Summary: Phineas finds shelter one Christmas Eve. For Secret Santa. For MC4A Winter Bingo. One-Shot.


**For TolkienScholar**

 **Stacked With: Secret Santa; Winter Bingo; By Any Other Name**

 **Challenges: In a Flash (Scene in kitchen)**

 **Bonus Challenges: Second Verse (Mouth of Babes;**

 **Space Address: 2C - Music**

 **Prompt(s): Family/Friendship (emphasis on family)**

 **Prompt wish: Makeshift, Childhood, Pie**

 **Fandom: The Greatest Show**

 **Word Count: 902**

 **Summary: During a bitterly cold winter, after he loses his father, Phineas finds shelter with a family that opens its doors to the needy.**

 **Disclaimer: I only support Hugh Jackman's P.T. Barnum because he was amazing. I do not condone or praise the actions of the real P.T. Barnum.**

 **P.S. A Million Dreams makes me cry every time I watch the sequence.**

~o0o~

Cold wind cut through Phineas' threadbare jacket. He crossed his arms tighter over his chest and shivered violently, his teeth chattering so hard he felt they might crack. He supposed there was some good from the cold and snow. It distracted him from his empty stomach. He couldn't even remember what his last meal was or where it came from.

A chime of bells and a chorus of voices drew his attention. Carolers. Was it Christmas already? True, Christmas wasn't ever a warm sight for him, but at least he and his father would get to stay indoors for a day. Phineas loved the idea of someone who brought toys to all the children of the world, but St. Nicholas never seemed to visit the poor side of town. Too busy, perhaps, but some well-meaning neighbor might bring over a loaf of bread or a Yule log.

It was already growing dark and the lanterns had been lit. It was time to find a place to sleep. Hopefully he would live through the chill. He had to. For Charity.

"Happy Christmas, Charity," he whispered through his frozen lips.

"Excuse me, boy."

Phineas turned and saw a woman standing in the doorway of her home.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "I'm moving on."

"Oh, you don't have to," she said. "See, it's Christmas Eve, and my family and I agreed to open our home to the needy for tonight. Would you like to come in and get warm?"

It could have been a trick. Some way to round up the poor and throw them in prison for breaking and entering, but Phineas couldn't help but be drawn in by the warmth of the house and the smell of dinner cooking. The nice woman stepped aside to reveal four other destitute people gathered around the fireplace.

"I'm Jane," said the woman, "Please, make yourself comfortable. We don't have much in the way of room or food, but the Lord would want us to share what we have, wouldn't he?"

"Thank you, ma'am," said Phineas gratefully. He took his seat next to a soot-faced little girl who was holding her cloth-wrapped feet as close to the fire as she could without burning them. The others were elderly and didn't seem to notice that someone else had joined them.

Phineas' skin began to burn as he warmed up, so he stepped away to go see if Jane needed any help.

"Oh, how kind of you to ask," she said. "If you'd be so kind to peel those potatoes with Sarah while I bake this pie, it sure would be a huge help."

"Yes, ma'am," said Phineas standing beside Sarah, who must've been Jane's daughter. It was plenty warm in here with the iron stove cooking up the pot of soup and a row of Cornish hens roasting on the kitchen fire.

"Do you like pie?" Jane asked.

"I don't know, ma'am," said Phineas. "It sure smells good though."

"Oh, just wait until it's cooked," said Sarah. "You're in for a real treat."

And what a treat it was. It was the best meal Phineas had ever had in his life and he relished every bite not knowing when his next meal would be after this. John, Jane's husband, was kind, a rather nice change to all the harshness Phineas had known. After supper and all the dishes were cleaned, the group gathered in the living room.

"Merry Christmas," William, an old junk collector, shouted for the umpteenth time while dumping a sack of junk on the sitting room floor.

"Oh!" Jane cried, putting a hand to her cheek. While she was gracious, not many people wanted garbage on their nice, clean floor. "How… thoughtful."

Jane's son, Bill, however was intrigued. Phineas was as well. Within moments, he didn't see junk at all, but treasure. Something to make a gift for the kind people who were sharing their home for the night.

Mind moving fast, Phineas picked through the items and began piecing them together. Sarah helped him by cleaning off the pieces with a bit of cloth and watched him with interest. The way her eyes lit up when she finally realized what he was making made his heart ache for Charity. Perhaps Jane had some paper and twine he could use to send this to her for a late Christmas gift. One day, he wouldn't have to, and he would spoil her more rotten than her father ever could.

"Ooh!" Sarah cried when Phineas was done.

Phineas cranked the wooden handle and a tune began to play as the cylinder hit the tines of the metal comb.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot/ and never thought upon," Jane sang. "The flames of Love extinguished,/ and fully past and gone. Is thy sweet Heart now drawn and cold, that loving Breast of thine./ That thou canst never once reflect/ On old long syne."

The rest of them joined in on the chorus.

 _For auld lang syne, my jo,_

 _for auld lang syne,_

 _we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,_

 _for auld lang syne._

 _And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup!_

 _and surely I'll be mine!_

 _And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,_

 _for auld lang syne._

The cup of kindness would eventually empty but, for now, this home was the warmest Phineas would be in for a long time and he would cherish every second.


End file.
